


Bring Me a Dream

by Anonymous



Category: 10th Kingdom, The Sandman (Comics), Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Multiple Crossovers, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had been the biggest thing, out of all the knowledge of magic and Ozian history her mother had told her:  </p><p> <i>When I die, you will be visited by a man with stars in his eyes and a ruby at his neck.  He will have pale skin, dark hair, and a dark cloak, and you will have to show him due respect.  None of your Other Realm sass, young lady, for he can make the whole of the O.Z. disappear and you will be left to wander the border-sands for all time, or until he allows you to leave in the company of his sister.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Created at the end of 2009, for those interested in such things. No beta.

“You are going to be the next Queen of the O.Z.” Her mother told her, years ago. “So there are things you must know, secrets that have been passed from generation to generation.” 

“What about Az?” She hadn’t been ready, to reconcile her old ( _false_ , a voice said in her mind) life in the Other Realm ( _real world_ , her mind insisted) with everything here, her new memories of childhood. Her mother had waved dismissively. 

“We all know that’s not a possibility, now,” the Queen said. “And she doesn’t want it.” 

Which does not surprise her. She just hadn’t considered the _implications_ of it, yet. 

“But-” 

“The O.Z. cannot function without a ruler, and you are the next in line. The last true-blooded heir to the House of Gale. Now _listen_.” 

D.G. wonders, later, if her mother had already known that she was ill, weakened from the effort of restoring the O.Z. and her time spent in the Sorceress’ prison. If her mother had already known she was dying, and that no amount of Viewers could heal her. 

But then, at the time, the news that she’d have to learn how to be a Queen _at all_ (let alone in so little time) and the secrets of the O.Z. that her mother was telling her were overwhelming everything else. 

*** 

This had been the biggest thing, out of all the knowledge of magic and Ozian history her mother had told her: 

_When I die, you will be visited by a man with stars in his eyes and a ruby at his neck. He will have pale skin, dark hair, and a dark cloak, and you will have to show him due respect. None of your Other Realm sass, young lady, for he can make the whole of the O.Z. disappear and you will be left to wander the border-sands for all time, or until he allows you to leave in the company of his sister._

His skin is pale, and the eyes are right, but everything else is _wrong_. His clothes and hair are bone-white, china-white, and he is not as terrible as her mother described. He is sad and somewhat stern, but he smiles when she wakes up and spots him. There is an emerald on a chain around his wrist, not a ruby. 

She still knows that it is him, but she couldn’t tell you why. 

_It’s almost like the wedding night of an arranged marriage_ , she thinks, feeling awkward. Her hands twist the comforter in her lap. _A big, ornate ceremony and then having to stare at a stranger in my bedroom._

“Are… Are you Morpheus?” she asks, finally, when she is sick of him staring at her, appraising her. She feels exposed, like his eyes are peeling her clothes and skin and bone away and judging her from the inside, her nerves and heart and brain. “The… The Dream-King?” 

“The latter,” he says, his gaze lightening as if he’s finished his dissection. “But not the former.” She can move, finally, and she scrambles for her robe to cover herself, her filmy nightgown, and moves away from the bed. She doesn’t know what to _do_. 

_Show him due respect_ , her mother had said. But what does that _mean_? 

“My name is Daniel. Would you like some refreshment? Or something to eat?” He gestures, and the table by the window-seat is filled, overflowing with food and drink. As if _she_ is the guest here. But then again, she _is_. She’s the Queen of the O.Z., but that only means that she rules a borrowed Kingdom. A small portion of the whole. 

He sits down, a pale column against the dark glass. She pulls up a chair so that she doesn’t have to share the bench with him, and sees real, honest-to-god _diner food_ , greasy chili fries and bacon cheeseburgers and italian beef with extra peppers on soggy buns. A couple of slices of pie, French silk and apple and pecan, are crowded in at one end, and there’s a tall plastic glass of soda nearby with a paper-wrapped straw balanced on the rim. D.G. laughs, not able to help herself. 

“I never thought I’d miss this kind of food, after serving it for years in that crappy diner,” she says, mouth already watering at the smell of it all. “But I do. The food’s almost _too_ nice here.” She realizes who she’s talking to, and her hand flies to her mouth, eyes going wide. “Um. Pardon my French,” she says, quickly. “I mean no disrespect, Your Highness.” 

His chuckle rolls across her skin like thunder, leaving all the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end. “It’s all right,” he says. “I’m not… what my predecessor was.” He grabs a fry and pops it in his mouth. “And neither are you. I’m interested to see what you’ll do with the place,” he says, waving one hand. 

As if it’s an _apartment_ she’s renting, not a whole country. 

“Um. I want to integrate the races a little more,” she starts, cautiously, taking a sip of the Coke. It tastes _exactly_ like she remembers it. “I mean, for example, the Viewers kind of got screwed by the Sorceress, and need all the help and welcome they can get. The Realm of the Unwanted should get recognized as an official city, not ignored like some badly-kept secret. We shouldn’t be ashamed of our diversity, or the people who don’t fit in… we should embrace it, celebrate it…” She bites her lip. She’d wanted to go adventuring, and regretted it – but now she wishes this place wasn’t so determined to be as bland and monotonous as Kansas. It’s one thing to want peace after the Sorceress’ reign, and quite another to keep shoving anyone unique or unusual into a city that was literally _under_ the _ground_. 

“Oz was always a colorful place,” the Dream-King muses. He hasn’t touched any other food. “It _has_ gotten a little dull. But with a Dreamer as ruler, it should regain its former glory.” 

“Dreamer?” 

“Someone born in the waking world – the Other Realm, you call it. Your many-greats grandmother was one. She pulled this place into existence from scraps and fragments, and her mind lived here for a long time.” 

_Oh_ . She loses her appetite, and puts down the burger she’d been about to eat. 

“Wait,” she says, wiping the grease from her fingers on a corner of her robe. “Wait. You’re saying the O.Z. is just a figment of my imagination?” 

He laughs again, and it scares the _shit_ out of her. “Yes and no. My Kingdom would not exist without dreamers, yet it is separate, its own place, as real as Heaven or Hell.” 

“Um…?” Her eyebrows are crawling up into her hairline. 

“Yes. They are.” 

She curls forward in her chair, her elbows tucked into her waist and her face in her hands. She breathes deeply for a minute or so. “Okay. Mom did not explain this well enough. This place is a Dream Kingdom. One of… a _lot_ , right? Are Heaven and Hell part of your realm, too?” 

“No, though they are similar, equal to my realm in their own ways” 

She takes another deep breath. “And my however-many great-grandmother, Dorothy Gale, made this place?” 

“In the waking world, she was very ill, but a powerful dreamer. She took scraps and fragments of half-formed dreams and constructed this place. It was very impressive, for a mortal.” She looks at him from between her fingers. He is toying with the emerald hanging from his wrist, and when it catches the light, it’s _blinding_. “You seem to have inherited her gifts, especially that of keeping the nightmare realms from creeping in.” 

“The Sorceress?” she guesses, taking a stab in the dark. 

He nods. “Your borders are not those on your maps, the ones filled with sands – they are of the mind, and the nightmares found a way to invade, through your sister.” 

“It was kind of my fault,” she admits, her palms muffling the confession. 

“Even so, you managed to banish them again, which is to be commended.” He gives her a _look_ that chills her down to her toes. “Please realize, this is but _one small fraction_ of my domain, and I do not tolerate weakness. Had you failed, I would have destroyed the O.Z. for no longer serving its function.” 

“Which is… _what_ , exactly?” 

“This is a place for people to visit, to enjoy their time asleep and to forget their cares. I have other places for nightmares; they do not need any more territory than I have already granted, though they always try to annex more.” 

“Am I a dream, then? Am I just a figment of… whatever my grandmother left behind?” She sits up, pulling her arms in to curl around her waist. 

“You have her blood, and you spent some time in the waking realm, so you are real in that sense. But this is real, too. _My_ reality, my realm. The travel storm which brought you to the waking realm-” he stops, tips his head slightly. “By the way, don’t ever _use_ those; they’re disruptive. Things leak in and out, not just between the O.Z. and the mortal realm. Travel storms make rifts that I have to repair.” 

“Not a problem,” she says, fighting the urge to say _yes, Your Highness_ like some kind of vassal. Even though she knows she _is_ one. “Um, so dreamers visit here?” 

“Most of your population is made of dreaming mortals. They don’t know it, and their waking hours don’t affect your timeline, but while they are here, they are your people.” 

“All… _all_ of them?” She thinks of Glitch, and of her family, and of _Wyatt_. 

“Not all. All of Dorothy Gale’s bloodline are somewhat mortal, but live their lives out in my realm, without living in the waking world. But…” And his smile is sly, knowing. “Telling you which is which among the others would ruin how you see them, wouldn’t it?” She feels a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Who dreamers are _here_ is as real as who they are awake. It’s usually very similar, personality-wise, though their appearance often changes.” 

“Okay…” she says slowly. He starts to speak, but she holds up a hand. “Please, give me a minute to… assimilate all this. It’s a lot to take in.” He nods and sits back. His gaze grows a little distant, and she wonders if he’s checking in on the other Kingdoms of his realm. “Hey, wait, why are we, like, an island in all this sand? Why can’t we travel to other dream-realms? Would _that_ be disruptive?” 

His gaze snaps back in focus, and she feels pinned in place again. “Dorothy Gale wished it so. Do you wish that changed? That, I can grant you.” 

“Oh. Well, maybe just for me, and a few friends?” She looks at the mountain of food that’s slowly cooling before her. “I’d like to know what the other Kingdoms are like, maybe see if we can arrange trade… but I don’t want to get flooded with a lot of new people or, or… creatures, ‘till I know what’s out there.” 

He nods. “I will let the Nine Kingdoms know about you, the ones best suited to mesh with your borders, should you decide in favor of it. They should be enough to keep you occupied.” He says this like he’s letting her cross the street, but not go past the end of the block. She never liked being treated like a kid, but this guy is something _else_ , someone who she really doesn’t want to cross. “I quite think you’ll like Queen Virginia.” 

A raven flies into the room, and lands on the back of her chair. It cocks its head, staring her down, and she blinks. “You’re the new one, then?” it asks in a rough voice. “You don’t look like much.” 

“Well, thanks, but it’s not _your_ approval I need right now,” she replies. 

“Yeah, okay,” it says, flipping a wing at her as if shrugging her off. “Boss, you gotta talk to the librarian. He’s going nuts with the new-media wing expanding exponentially, even if it is all just bits and bytes. Says he doesn’t know how to file half of it.” 

The Dream-King sighs and stands, his cloak pooling like liquid moonlight on the floor. “Very well, Matthew. I’ll be there in a moment.” He holds out a hand, and D.G. scrambles to her feet to take it. Then she remembers herself, and curtsies deeply (if poorly) before him. His hand is cold against her forehead. 

“You have my blessing, Queen Dorothy Gale. Rule wisely and well.” Something settles around her, there is a weight upon her brow, and when she stands, her robe is a cape of embroidered gold and there is a heavy crown on her head. He tips her chin up with his outstretched hand, and his starry eyes are twinkling. “You should have an heir – find one or make one, it is all the same to me, but I will need another of your line to rule after you.” 

She looks away, blushing furiously. When she looks back, he is gone. 

The raven caws from its perch. “Good luck,” it croaks. “You’ll need it.” 

She rolls her eyes and sits down again, tossing the cloak and crown over the back of her chair, displacing the raven. It flaps off, through an open window, muttering under its breath. She returns her attention to the food, which is fresh and hot, as if it hasn’t been sitting untouched for the better part of an hour. 

When she unfolds the napkin, she finds upon it an embroidered map. 

_The Nine Kingdoms,_ she reads. _Queen Virginia,_ she thinks, sipping her soda. _I wonder if she's met the Dream King, if she knows where our realms really are. I wonder if she'd believe me if I told her where I grew up, and how I got here._

DG laughs a little at herself, and reaches for an onion ring. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not remember if this was a shippy fic, but there was going to be some awesome Virginia & DG bonding at least, plus metaplot about the kingdoms banding together to drive out nightmares despite the (political, economic, philosophical) upheaval of suddenly having neighbors. 
> 
> The "find one or make one" bit at the end was going to be interpreted as DG choosing to name *Az's* child her heir, as a gesture towards the OZ healing and DG deliberately making a public show of trust towards her sister, but I do not remember who the father was going to be (someone from 10th Kingdom, I assume).


End file.
